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British-Cypriot artist A!MS is pushing his self-created “Global Street” sound into its next chapter with “Don’t Die,” a collaboration with Dappy. Built around the refrain “the real don’t die,” “Don’t Die” digs into perseverance, loyalty, legacy, and the idea that what we create can outlive us. A!MS and Dappy approach the record with an undeniable sense of history, turning its central message into something that feels personal without losing the larger, anthemic energy that defines A!MS’ increasingly borderless sound. That history runs deeper than the collaboration itself. In 2015, Chris Brown painted a mural featuring the words “Don’t Die” inside Club Black N’ White, the Ayia Napa venue operated by A!MS’ family and closely tied to the island’s UK garage and hip-hop history. A!MS rediscovered the mural only after he and Dappy had already completed the song. The coincidence ultimately inspired the release’s visual identity, creating an unexpected bridge between A!MS’ past and present. “Don’t Die” also captures what makes A!MS’ Global Street concept compelling. His music refuses to stay locked into one geography or genre, drawing from UK rap, dancehall, Afro-inspired rhythms, Caribbean sounds, Mediterranean culture, and international club music. As A!MS puts it, “‘Don’t Die’ is the final word in that story.” It’s a fitting statement for an artist whose career has been built around connecting worlds while refusing to forget where he came from. "Don’t Die" centers on the idea that ‘the real don’t die.’ What does that phrase mean to you personally, and has its meaning changed since you first wrote the song? To me, ‘the real don’t die’ means that anything built from truth has a life beyond the moment. Trends disappear, circumstances change, and people can misunderstand you, but what is genuine leaves a mark and becomes your legacy. It lives in the music, in the culture, and in the people connected to it. It’s not about believing you are untouchable; it is about refusing to let pressure, setbacks, or other people’s expectations erase who you are. When we first wrote the song, the phrase felt defiant, almost like a declaration of survival. Since then, it has become more reflective for me. I have seen how much reinvention it takes to stay true to yourself over time. Now I hear it as a statement about legacy: the real version of you survives every chapter, even as you grow into someone new. You and Dappy had already completed ‘Don’t Die’ before rediscovering the Chris Brown mural from 2015. What went through your mind when you realized that connection existed? It felt bigger than a coincidence. The song was already finished, so we didn't go looking for an image to manufacture a story around it. Then that 2015 mural came back into view, and suddenly it carried a completely different meaning. Something Chris Brown had created years earlier had survived in the background of my journey and returned at exactly the right moment to become the single artwork. My first thought was that this is exactly what ‘the real don’t die’ means. Real art can go quiet for a while, but it does not lose its energy. The mural connected the past and present without us having to force it. It made the release feel like a full circle, yet not nostalgic, but like proof that authentic moments can keep evolving and find a new purpose years later. You’ve built much of your career in Cyprus instead of following the traditional route of relocating to a major music industry hub. How has that decision shaped both your independence and the Global Street sound? Choosing Cyprus gave me distance from the usual industry machinery, and that distance became a strength. I could build at my own pace, take risks, and create a world around the music instead of waiting for a major city or gatekeeper to validate it. It taught me to be entrepreneurial and to create the platforms, relationships, and live experiences I wanted rather than simply trying to fit into an existing scene. Cyprus also changed the sound because the island is a meeting point. You feel Europe, the Middle East, and the Mediterranean, while my own foundation remains British and rooted in UK street culture. Living between those perspectives made Global Street natural. It is the sound of movement between places, music made locally, but never with a local ceiling. Global Street brings together UK rap, dancehall, Afro-inspired sounds, Mediterranean culture, and more. How do you keep those influences feeling authentic rather than simply genre-blending for the sake of it? The difference is whether the influences are part of your life or just part of your playlist. Global Street comes from the places I have lived, the communities I have been around, the artists I genuinely work with, and the sounds that have shaped me over time. I am not beginning with a list of genres and trying to combine them. I begin with a feeling, a story, or a rhythm, and I let the right elements enter naturally. Authenticity also comes from collaboration. If a record draws from a particular culture or sound, I want people connected to that world in the room, contributing their own voices. I respect where every influence comes from, but I also allow the music to become something new. Global Street is not fusion as a marketing device; it is an honest reflection of how culture actually moves now, across cities, islands, languages, and borders. With the success of Peak Season and “Don’t Die” as part of the next chapter, what do you think ‘Don’t Die’ says about the artist you are now compared to the person who began building this world years ago? ‘Don’t Die’ shows that I am still driven by the same instincts, including independence, resilience, and the need to build something that belongs to me. I understand those instincts differently now. Earlier in my journey, I was focused on proving that the world I imagined could exist. Today, I am more interested in giving that world permanence and bringing other artists, sounds, and cultures into it with purpose. That is why the song feels right. It looks back without living in the past. The record carries history, my own, Dappy’s, the mural, and everything it took to reach this point—but it also sounds like forward motion. The artist I am now knows that survival alone is not the goal. The goal is to turn what you survived, built, and learned into a legacy that can keep moving after the moment has passed. Don’t Die is the next chapter in Peak Season. A!MS 2025 album, Peak Season, wasn’t simply a release; it was an invitation to meet him in Cyprus. Featuring Julian Marley, ArrDee, Ramz, Blanco, ZieZie, Alika, Antaeus, Hypertone, and Grammy-winning producers Cool & Dre, the nine-track album has surpassed 10 million Spotify streams. “Light & Love” debuted at No. 1 on Jamaica’s YouTube chart, exceeded 1.5 million YouTube views, and gave A!MS his fifth No. 1 on the Cypriot Digital Chart. “Need Somebody” with ArrDee has generated approximately 1.7 million Spotify streams, while “Champione” and “Wait What” further expanded the album’s reach. The EP turned A!MS’s Cyprus-built sound into a measurable global movement. His catalog continues to climb the Cypriot charts whenever he performs, with “Light & Love” recently returning to the Top 10 and “Need Somebody” reaching No. 14 as new audiences discover his music.

Goa-based guitarist, producer, and DJ ZOHA steps into a beautifully immersive lane of electronic music with her latest instrumental release, “Floating Seaweed,” a self-produced track that feels less like a song demanding attention and more like an invitation to disappear into its atmosphere. Built entirely from guitar, drums, and synths, “Floating Seaweed” began as a simple sketch on GarageBand before evolving into a richly layered production inside Logic Pro. That DIY foundation becomes one of the track's greatest strengths, with every element carrying the intimacy of something carefully constructed by hand rather than assembled from familiar electronic formulas. ZOHA's background as a classically trained guitarist quietly informs the release, allowing organic guitar textures to melt seamlessly into hypnotic electronic production. Inspired by a freediving experience with her partner off Grand Island in Goa, the track captures the strange emotional weightlessness of being suspended beneath the surface of the ocean. Rather than translating that memory through lyrics, ZOHA allows the instrumentation to become the storyteller, moving through gentle waves of ambient sound, leftfield experimentation, and subtle house influences without ever feeling confined to one genre. There is a remarkable sense of patience throughout “Floating Seaweed.” It understands that calm does not have to mean empty, and instead fills its spacious production with emotional nuance and quiet movement. The result is a soundscape that encourages reflection while remaining deeply transportive, making it equally fitting for solitary headphone listening or moments when the outside world simply needs to slow down. As a release born from an inherently queer experience, “Floating Seaweed” also represents something larger than its sonic beauty. It stands as a reminder that female and queer producers deserve space to create boldly, intuitively, and without diluting the music they hear in their own minds.

IVY FLINDT continues to refine its dreamy art-house pop sound with the release of "I Like The Weather." The Hamburg, Germany duo, made up of vocalist Cate Martin and multi-instrumentalist Micha Holland, has built a reputation for pairing cinematic production with deeply introspective songwriting. Their latest chapter expands on that foundation, offering a song that disguises emotional turbulence beneath a deceptively gentle title. Rather than reflecting on changing seasons, "I Like The Weather" explores the clarity that can emerge after conflict, tracing the journey of walking away from unhealthy relationships and rediscovering inner strength. Produced alongside Grammy Award-winning producer Danton Supple, the track also previews the duo's forthcoming EP, SPHINX, due November 13. Following the release of "Welcome To L.A.," this new single highlights IVY FLINDT's continued evolution, balancing lush, atmospheric arrangements with vulnerable storytelling that lingers long after the music fades. "I Like The Weather" uses weather as a metaphor rather than its literal meaning. When did you realize that imagery was the perfect way to tell this story? Cate Martin: I always like layers. I like it when lyrics offer a wider range while still stating something very specific. I don’t take a conceptual approach to writing lyrics. I come up with something intuitively, and it’s only then, in a second step, that my head gets to have a say. Working with Grammy-winning producer Danton Supple in your own home studio is a unique combination. How did that environment influence the sound and emotion of the record? Cate Martin: It felt like quite a risk to invite someone I barely knew into my home. But I deliberately chose this setting because I thought it might help me stay true to what I was after when I composed the songs in the exact same setting in the first place. And I wanted to honor what I already had: this wonderful studio, which Micha set up so carefully for our music, rather than going somewhere new and having to build something from scratch in a hurry. For example, we would have had to rent all those instruments that already sit here, carefully curated over the years, waiting to offer their magic. Imagine you’re in a fancy studio somewhere, and all you want is that one vintage organ from home that is just a little off in the perfect way, but you can’t get it. I’d imagine this to be so stressful! Micha Holland: As an arranger and multi-instrumentalist, I have a clear vision of the sounds I want to use. We developed the sonic world of IVY FLINDT over the years while touring, recording demos, working on pre-production, and making our first studio album, In Every Move. I’m not a vintage purist, but it turns out that most of the instruments and gear in our studio were built in the 1960s, apart from Cate’s 1896 Blüthner grand piano and my 2004 Fender bass. What I like most about this collection is that I know all these instruments inside out. I know their pros and cons, and I know at which frequencies they sound best. I call the studio my “playground.” Knowing the instruments inside out meant that I didn’t have to spend much time searching for sounds. I could translate an idea into an arrangement almost immediately, which allowed Danton and me to build the tracks very quickly. It was the first time we had recorded a record without any additional musicians, and I really enjoyed being able to paint the whole picture in terms of rhythm, harmony, and sonic texture. Your music consistently balances beauty with emotional tension. How do you approach writing songs that feel hopeful while still embracing life's complexities? Cate Martin: I feel it’s never only one or the other. It’s always everything at once. So maybe the music simply reflects that. SPHINX arrives this November after introducing listeners to "Welcome To L.A." and now "I Like The Weather." How do these singles represent the broader themes explored across the EP? Cate Martin: I guess both songs, as well as the whole EP, explore certain thresholds in life: moments when you know you have just come across something that will matter to you for a long time. After years of evolving as IVY FLINDT, what continues to inspire you creatively, and where do you see this next era taking the project? Cate Martin: All I wanna do is record the new songs I already have in my mind, heart, and sketchbook. But I deeply enjoy being able to share the Sphinx EP now, with its release in November. And I really hope people can connect and find something precious in it that carries meaning for them. That’ll be wonderful.

The Star Prairie Project has officially released its new album, Shadows On The Wall, out today, August 21. The 10-song record marks the latest chapter for the Wisconsin-born project and songwriter Nolen R. Chew Jr., continuing an approach to music built around storytelling, collaboration, and letting each song develop an identity of its own. Based in Star Prairie, Wisconsin, Chew created The Star Prairie Project as a vehicle for turning his original songwriting into fully realized recordings. Rather than operating as a conventional band, the project brings together musicians, vocalists, and producers from around the world, with collaborators stretching from Los Angeles to London. That structure has given Chew room to move freely between rock, Americana, blues, alternative, indie pop, and cinematic influences without forcing the music into a single lane. Shadows On The Wall puts that philosophy front and center. Across the album, The Star Prairie Project balances reflective songwriting with a broad, collaborative sound, creating a record that feels connected by perspective rather than strict genre rules. The project's emphasis on honest songwriting remains at its core, but the different voices and musicians involved give the material a sense of movement from one track to the next. Listeners have already received glimpses of the album through releases including “Things Don't Last,” featuring Marcello Vieira, and “To Warm A Cold Heart,” featuring Sandrine Orsini. The former brings Vieira's commanding vocals together with Ricardo Dikk's guitar work, while “To Warm A Cold Heart” shows the project's more emotional, reflective side. Both tracks hinted at the range Chew was preparing to explore across the full record. Even the project's name speaks to its foundation, combining Chew's hometown of Star Prairie with a nod to The Alan Parsons Project. It's a fitting reference for a musical endeavor that places collaboration at the center of its identity. With Shadows On The Wall, The Star Prairie Project isn't chasing a particular moment or trend. Instead, Chew continues building a catalog around songs, stories, and the musicians capable of bringing them to life. Shadows On The Wall is out now on all major streaming platforms.

Nigerian-American artist Obumneme is moving into a new chapter with “YOYO,” a soulful hip-hop release centered on self-awareness, independence, and becoming comfortable with the reality of who you are. Based in Clayton County, Georgia, Obumneme has developed his sound around raw storytelling, live instrumentation, and an expressive approach to vocals that often treats his voice as another instrument within the music. His work sits somewhere between soulful rap and hip-hop, using music to articulate emotions and experiences that are not always easy to put into words. On “YOYO,” that approach turns inward. The track reflects Obumneme becoming increasingly conscious of his own reality and choosing to embrace it rather than perform for outside approval. At the center of the song is a sense of freedom, with its chorus emphasizing the confidence that comes from moving through life on your own terms and recognizing that your worth does not need to be proven to anyone else. That perspective gives “YOYO” a grounded quality. Instead of framing confidence as something loud or untouchable, Obumneme presents it as the result of knowing yourself more deeply. The song becomes less about having everything figured out and more about trusting the person you are becoming. The release also arrives at an important point in Obumneme’s evolution. Following his mixtape SISYPHEAN and the sold-out SISYPHEAN! Live headlining show, he describes this era as one built with greater clarity, confidence, and purpose. While continuing the emotional storytelling of his previous work, he is allowing himself more freedom to experiment, take creative risks, and expand the world surrounding his music. With “YOYO,” Obumneme isn't abandoning where he has been. He is carrying those experiences forward, making room for growth while remaining rooted in the honesty that brought listeners into his world in the first place.

There is no shortage of advice aimed at independent artists. Release constantly, move to Los Angeles, find a manager, chase playlists, go viral, never pay for promotion, and sign a deal the second somebody important offers one. The problem is that music industry advice tends to get repeated until recommendations start sounding like requirements. Building a sustainable career independently requires understanding which strategies actually serve your music, audience, finances, and long-term goals rather than blindly following somebody else's career blueprint. With that in mind, here are 15 industry myths independent artists should seriously reconsider. “You need to release a new song every 4–6 weeks.” Consistency matters, but constantly feeding streaming platforms can easily turn an artist's catalog into disposable inventory. The pressure to release every few weeks often means artists begin promoting the next song before the current one has had a real opportunity to reach listeners. A strong release can support months of content, live performances, interviews, visuals, acoustic versions, behind-the-scenes material, and continued audience discovery. There is nothing inherently wrong with releasing frequently when the music and promotional infrastructure are there to support it, but releasing faster than you can properly market your work isn't necessarily consistency. Sometimes it simply means you're burying your own music. “If the music is good enough, people will find it.” Thousands of genuinely great songs are released every day without ever reaching a meaningful audience, which is why making good music should be viewed as the entry requirement rather than the entire strategy. Independent artists still need marketing, positioning, relationships, content, live opportunities, press, and a clear understanding of who they're trying to reach. None of that replaces the importance of making great music, but great music sitting unnoticed on a streaming platform doesn't magically promote itself. Artists need to create something worth discovering and then intentionally give people opportunities and reasons to discover it. “You need a record deal to have a real career.” Record labels can provide valuable resources, capital, expertise, relationships, and scale, but signing one is no longer the dividing line between having a legitimate music career and merely trying to build one. Independent artists now have access to distribution, recording, marketing, touring, merchandise, fan development, and direct-to-audience platforms without necessarily surrendering ownership or control. The right record deal can dramatically accelerate an artist's growth, while the wrong one can hand somebody else control over something the artist spent years building. A deal should make sense because of its terms and what the partner can contribute, not because an artist believes signing paperwork is the only way to become legitimate. “More monthly listeners means you’re more successful.” Monthly listeners are one useful metric, but treating them as a résumé for an artist's entire career can create a wildly distorted picture of success. A large playlist placement can dramatically increase monthly listeners without creating meaningful fandom, while an artist with a smaller audience may be selling tickets, moving merchandise, building a mailing list, and consistently attracting returning listeners. Artists should pay attention to saves, repeat listeners, followers, ticket sales, merchandise, direct engagement, mailing-list growth, and whether people actually return when new music arrives. A smaller audience that actively supports an artist can ultimately be far more valuable than a massive number of passive listeners who barely remember the artist's name. “Going viral will change everything.” Virality can absolutely create opportunities, but attention and fandom are not the same thing. An artist can receive millions of views on a piece of content and discover a few weeks later that very little of that attention translated into streams, followers, ticket buyers, or long-term listeners. The artists best positioned to benefit from viral moments usually have somewhere for that attention to go, whether that's a strong catalog, recognizable identity, upcoming releases, live shows, active social channels, or another way of keeping new listeners connected. Going viral can open a door, but what an artist has waiting on the other side ultimately determines whether that moment becomes career momentum or another piece of content everyone forgets. “You should accept every opportunity when you’re starting out.” Emerging artists are frequently encouraged to accept anything offering visibility because they supposedly haven't earned the right to be selective yet, but exposure isn't automatically valuable. Before agreeing to an opportunity, artists should understand who benefits, what they're expected to provide, what it will cost them, who owns any resulting content, what audience they will actually reach, and whether the opportunity realistically moves their career forward. There will certainly be moments when accepting a low-paying or unpaid opportunity makes strategic sense, but that decision should come from understanding its potential value rather than feeling grateful that somebody asked. Being independent does not mean being desperate, and learning to say no is part of learning how to run a career. “You need a manager to be taken seriously.” A manager should solve problems created by growth, not function as an accessory that makes an artist appear more established. Good management can help navigate opportunities, develop strategy, coordinate teams, negotiate business, and remove responsibilities from an artist whose career has become too demanding to manage alone. Bringing somebody into the business simply to say you have a manager can mean surrendering a percentage of income without solving an actual problem. Artists should focus first on creating something worth managing and then build a team around genuine needs as those needs emerge. The right manager can become an invaluable partner, but the wrong one can quickly become another problem requiring management. “Never pay for promotion.” Marketing costs money in virtually every serious industry, and music isn't somehow exempt from that reality. The red flag isn't automatically paying for promotion; it's paying for vague promises, guaranteed streams, mysterious playlists, fake engagement, or campaigns where nobody can clearly explain what you're purchasing. Legitimate advertising, PR, content production, photography, radio promotion, and other marketing services involve real labor and resources, so artists should evaluate promotional spending based on transparency, strategy, reputation, and realistic deliverables. Instead of asking whether promotion should ever cost money, artists should be asking exactly what they're buying, who is providing it, what outcomes are realistically possible, and whether that investment makes sense for their current career. “You have to move to LA, New York, or Nashville.” Major music cities can offer valuable access to collaborators, studios, venues, executives, managers, writers, producers, and communities that are difficult to replicate elsewhere, but location cannot manufacture talent, strategy, or momentum. Moving across the country without relationships, income, a plan, or a clear reason for being there can become an expensive change of address rather than a career breakthrough. Artists can increasingly collaborate remotely, travel strategically for sessions and meetings, attend conferences, tour targeted markets, and develop industry relationships without immediately relocating their entire lives. Moving can absolutely be the right decision when a particular city supports an artist's existing trajectory, but it should be part of a strategy rather than the strategy itself. “Your social media needs to look perfect.” Strong branding matters, but artists aren't luxury hotel Instagram accounts, and an immaculate feed doesn't automatically create meaningful connection. Audiences often respond to personality, humor, opinions, creative process, backstage moments, unfinished ideas, and the small details that make an artist feel like an actual person rather than a carefully constructed marketing campaign. Visual consistency can make an artist recognizable, but personality gives people something to become attached to. If every post looks flawless while nobody learns anything about the person behind the music, the artist may have created an impressive mood board without actually building a fanbase. “Once you sign a deal, you’ve made it.” Signing with a recognizable company can be an important career milestone, but the announcement itself says very little about whether the agreement is actually beneficial. Advances can be recoupable, rights can be surrendered, options can extend contracts for years, and unfavorable agreements can still come with impressive logos and exciting announcement photos. Artists need to understand ownership, royalties, recoupment, term length, options, creative control, and exactly what each party is obligated to contribute before treating any contract as proof that they have arrived. A great partnership can transform a career, but the terms of the agreement matter considerably more than the prestige attached to the company offering it. “You need to say yes when an ‘industry person’ shows interest.” A job title doesn't automatically make somebody useful, legitimate, trustworthy, or right for an artist's career. Emerging artists can become so conditioned to seek industry approval that interest from a manager, promoter, label representative, publicist, or executive immediately feels like an opportunity that cannot be questioned. Artists should still research companies, check credits, understand incentives, ask what somebody wants from them, clarify what is being offered in return, and request appropriate agreements in writing. Legitimate professionals shouldn't be threatened by reasonable questions, and genuine opportunities can survive basic due diligence. “Artists shouldn’t talk about money.” The idea that artists should remain focused exclusively on creativity is extremely convenient for everyone who understands the business better than they do. Independent artists should know how royalties, publishing, master ownership, splits, recoupment, performance fees, expenses, commissions, and contracts affect their income because financial literacy is part of protecting a creative career. Nobody needs to become an entertainment lawyer or accountant overnight, but artists should understand where their money comes from, where it goes, what percentage other people are taking, and what rights they are exchanging in the process. Knowing the business behind your art isn't selling out; it's one of the clearest ways to avoid getting screwed. “You should wait until everything is perfect.” There will almost always be another mix adjustment, photo edit, content idea, video concept, or rollout change an artist could make before releasing something. Attention to detail is valuable, but eventually perfectionism can become fear wearing better branding. The goal isn't to rush unfinished music into the world; it's to recognize when the work is genuinely ready and stop delaying because there might theoretically be a better version somewhere in the future. Artists develop by releasing work, observing how audiences respond, learning from the process, and applying those lessons to whatever comes next. Careers are built through iteration, and waiting indefinitely for a flawless moment can become its own form of standing still. “There’s a blueprint for making it in music.” There are strategies worth studying, mistakes worth avoiding, and established practices that can make navigating the industry considerably easier, but there is no universal formula guaranteed to produce a successful music career. What worked for another artist may have depended on their genre, personality, audience, budget, team, location, timing, existing relationships, or plain luck. Independent artists should absolutely study the business and learn from people doing things well, but those lessons should become ingredients in an individualized strategy rather than instructions copied word for word. The goal isn't to reject music industry advice altogether; it's to understand the business well enough to recognize the difference between useful guidance and a supposed rule that was never really a rule in the first place.

Faith-based indie artist Cydni Brionne brings vulnerability to the forefront on her new single, “bye bye!,” a soul-blues release that confronts the exhausting reality of anxiety while searching for hope beyond the noise. “bye bye!” captures the desperation of wanting to escape a turbulent mind and the emotional weight that comes with fighting an internal battle others may never see. Rather than approaching that experience from a distance, Brionne positions the song as an empathetic hand for listeners navigating their own difficult seasons. Brionne's classically trained voice is an essential part of that emotional pull. Her sound bridges traditional blues instrumentation with contemporary soul and funk, drawing inspiration from artists ranging from Stevie Wonder and Donny Hathaway to Amy Winehouse, Norah Jones, and Samm Henshaw. The result gives “bye bye!” a foundation that feels soulful and lived-in rather than overly polished. Faith sits at the center of the record, but Brionne doesn't use it to dismiss the complexity of mental and emotional struggles. Instead, she pushes against the stigma surrounding those experiences, particularly the idea that struggling or seeking help somehow reflects a failure of faith. Her message is rooted in reassurance: difficult moments don't place someone beyond God's presence or compassion. That perspective aligns with the larger purpose behind Brionne's artistry. Since debuting in 2023, she has performed with Sofar Sounds and Breaking Sound and taken the stage at the House of Blues, while focusing on building a community around listeners searching for something deeper than passive fandom. Arriving alongside an official music video on VEVO and YouTube, “bye bye!” feels like a defining introduction to what makes Brionne compelling. She doesn't pretend anxiety disappears with a simple answer. Instead, she meets listeners inside the struggle and reminds them that darkness doesn't have to mean abandonment. “bye bye!” comes from a deeply vulnerable place. Was there a specific moment when you realized the emotions surrounding anxiety needed to become a song? Yes, to start off, this song took about 5–6 months to complete. When I first began writing it in November, the lyrics were very different and weren’t as heavy. At the time, I wasn’t really connecting with them, so I decided to take a step back from the song for a while. Around late March, I decided to commit to finishing it. I scrapped the previous lyrics and felt led to be more transparent about my experience with anxiety. I wanted to simply express how it made me feel, how it kept me up at night, and the exhaustion that came from constantly fighting it, rather than trying to dress it up. When I finished the song, I was initially afraid to share it. I even considered keeping it to myself. But after sharing it with my mom and receiving encouragement and motivation from her, I found the courage to release it. I realized that people needed to hear something honest, and I wanted those who specifically struggle with mental health to know that they aren’t alone in their pain—that there is someone out there who understands. Faith is central to your artistry, but “bye bye!” also acknowledges how complicated mental and emotional struggles can be. How do you write about faith without minimizing the reality of what someone may be experiencing? It gets tricky sometimes, in all honesty. Unfortunately, society often places this expectation on Christian art to project an image of unwavering spiritual strength, when that simply isn’t the truth. I love God with all my heart, and I’m still a human being who experiences pain, sadness, anger, exhaustion, doubt, and every other complicated emotion that comes with the human experience. If God created reality and the human experience, then who are we to say that He isn’t present in those experiences with us? I believe it’s a disservice to not be honest about the struggles that life brings. It’s in those dark moments when we truly see the loving, faithful character of God, and we will rob ourselves of seeing that when we refuse to acknowledge reality. This is a sentiment I try to hold onto in my writing. It gives me the courage to continue to be honest about how painful life can be sometimes. There can still be stigma surrounding mental health within certain faith communities. What conversations do you hope “bye bye!” can help open up? As I mentioned in my previous answer, I hope “bye bye!” can start conversations about the hardships of reality while walking with Christ. Life is full of unexpected twists, turns, and difficult transitions that eventually take a toll on everyone. I want our communities to not be afraid or ashamed to admit that mental health is a very real part of life and something that needs to be discussed, especially among people of faith. Struggling with mental health shouldn’t be seen as a lack of faith. Instead, it should be seen as a normal part of the human experience and an opportunity to extend compassion and support to those in need. Your sound brings traditional blues together with contemporary soul and funk. How did you use the production and your vocal performance to reflect the emotional tension behind “bye bye!”? Producing the song was a very fun part of this experience. Working with my producer, Roderick “BassHeavy" Tillman, I believe we really captured the intensity of the emotion in the song by incorporating noticeable dynamic changes and variations in the arrangement. As a singer, I also made sure that my vocals told the story by intentionally articulating certain words and incorporating dynamic changes. The genre of the song also plays a huge part in conveying the message because it’s another way of showing the exhausting reality of dealing with anxiety while also highlighting the resilience and courage it takes to not remain in that place. You’ve said you’re more interested in cultivating a community than simply building a fanbase. What do you want that community to represent, and where does “bye bye!” fit into that larger mission? I want this community to represent a sense of safety and love. I want people to feel safe with God, safe to be themselves, and safe to tell the truth. I want people to feel loved and seen when listening to the music I write. “bye bye!” fits into this vision by unashamedly telling the truth and encouraging others to do the same, so no one feels alone or alienated in their pain. I believe this is only the beginning of establishing that foundation.

Wolves of Glendale have figured out how to make comedy rock hit like actual rock, and with their sophomore album Go to the Woods, the Los Angeles trio is pushing that formula into bigger, stranger territory. Made up of Ethan Edenburg, Eric Jackowitz, and Tom McGovern, Wolves of Glendale have built a devoted following by pairing absurdist humor with seriously sharp musicianship. Their new 15-track album, produced by Grammy-winning producer John Spiker, pulls inspiration from horror movies, social anxieties, awkward encounters, and the everyday absurdities that probably shouldn't be songs, but somehow become massive hooks in their hands. After taking their chaotic live show to stages including Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, SXSW, and Netflix Is A Joke Festival, Wolves of Glendale are heading into their next chapter with plenty of momentum behind them. Ahead of the August 28 release of Go to the Woods, we caught up with the trio to talk about building the new record, finding the line between a great joke and a great song, working with Spiker, and why comedy rock might deserve a little more respect. Comedy rock can fall apart if either the joke or the music feels secondary. When you were making Go to the Woods, how did you know when a song was genuinely great versus just genuinely funny? I'm obviously a little biased, because I think literally every song on this record rules. But when you look at the track list, even before hearing the songs, it's pretty easy to spot at least one that's just funny for funny’s sake. There's a song called "Donkey Kong Is My Therapist" that we only recorded because we were in tears in the studio singing "Donkey Konggggg is my therapistttttt" over some grungy riff that Ethan was playing. Then at some point we were like, “You know what, we should probably just record this.” And then we did. And that song is actually as dumb as it sounds. But to answer your question, I think there's something genuinely great and funny about every single one of these songs. Our goal as a band is to make a song you could listen to without the lyrics and feel like you're listening to an incredibly well-produced modern rock song. I think we definitely accomplished that on this record. There was a moment when I first heard a coherent mix of "The History of Popcorn" and I got goosebumps. I remember thinking it was so funny that I was getting goosebumps listening to my own band's song about a fake story of Vikings accidentally inventing popcorn after beheading a king. But I think that speaks to how much time and effort we spent making these songs sound as good as possible, and writing the best arrangements we possibly could, so the music can elevate the joke every time. And vice versa. The album pulls from horror movies, social anxiety, awkward encounters, and the general absurdity of everyday life. What ridiculous real-life moment came closest to writing a song for you? The first song that comes to mind is "Chicken Parm," because there have been more than a handful of times where the three of us have been eating chicken parm somewhere, and we look up from our plates and — as if it's the first time we've ever said it to each other — all vocally agree that chicken parm is just the greatest meal of all time. Eventually one of us was like, we should probably write a song about that. And "Chicken Parm" was born. "I Finished a Book" is a close second, because personally, whenever I do finish a book, I feel like I just graduated from Harvard. I'm so bad at finishing books. So the initial joke in that song comes from a real place: doing something incredibly simple but feeling like I'm the man for pulling it off. John Spiker has worked with artists like Tenacious D and Slash. What did he bring to Go to the Woods that pushed the sound beyond what you accomplished on your debut? John was such an unbelievable part of this process. This album literally wouldn't be anything like what you're going to hear without him. He's a really unique swiss army knife of a producer and engineer, because he has a rare skill set: he's a genius behind the mixing console, able to record drums in the basement of a cabin in the woods and make it sound like a professional drum room in Los Angeles. But his instincts as a funny person are also invaluable to us as a comedy band. Having someone we can trust comedically and musically steering the ship during the recording process is something I really can't overstate. John was such an x-factor in this entire process. Anytime the three of us were unsure of where to take a joke or what instrument to add to an arrangement to help elevate it, we could always turn to John and trust that his opinion was leading us in the right direction. And John was also just supportive of following us down the silliest rabbit holes possible. Can’t believe I;m bringing this song up twice in the same interview, BUT: with "Donkey Kong Is My Therapist," when we were like, hey, let's record that, he was immediately like, “Yeah, of course we've gotta record it.” And five minutes later he had Eric’s drums ready to go and Ethan’s guitar plugged in and my mic set up. And all of a sudden we had a new track just because John said yes the entire time, when I think it could have been very easy for an average producer to say “we don’t have time, that’s too stupid, let’s keep moving”. So not only were we guided by an absolute seasoned professional, a monster engineer and producer, we were also made to feel like we could be our funniest selves and be embraced for it. In the record-making process I think comfort is number one, and John is the greatest at making incredible-sounding records in the most comfortable environment possible. You've played everything from Bonnaroo and Lollapalooza to Netflix Is a Joke Festival. Do you notice a difference between winning over a music festival crowd and a comedy crowd, and which one is harder? I wouldn't say either is harder, I just think they're different. A music festival crowd has been standing outside all day, they're there for the music, they're ready to party. So we're able to come out of the gate like Green Day or Blink, like a rock band at a festival would, and get everyone hyped up right away. We wouldn't necessarily do that at the Improv in LA. For a comedy crowd, we can spend more time between songs riffing with each other, making each other laugh, and making the room laugh because of it. Then we're able to use our musical ability in that context to wow a comedy room in a different way. The reverse is true at a festival. People expect to hear music, expect to hear a rock band play. But when we start singing about funny stuff, and when we're bantering and interacting with the crowd between songs, which can be relatively rare in a festival context, we've found that people really dig it. That's what I think is really cool about the Wolves: we're able to offer something unique in both worlds, adjust to match the energy of the room, and still give an unforgettable show no matter what. The most common thing we hear, especially in a comedy context, is "Wow, the songs are actually good!!! I can't believe you can all sing really well and the songs actually sound good!!! You could write real songs if you wanted to!!!" Comedy music has historically struggled to be taken seriously as "real music," even when the musicianship is undeniable. Do you think that perception is changing, or is being underestimated part of what makes Wolves of Glendale work? Since we formed in 2022 we’ve been on a mission to prove this exact point: that comedy music should be held to a higher standard. It can feel like an uphill battle sometimes because of preconceived notions about what comedy music is. A lot of people think it's like, a stand-up comedian playing campfire chords on a guitar or ukulele, telling jokes over a basic chord progression. Everything we're doing is a direct challenge to that stereotype. I have full faith that this generation of comedy music has the ability to remind people that comedy music is funny, but that it can and should be taken seriously, like Tenacious D and The Lonely Island did in the early 2000s. Because there are people like Kyle Gordon and OCT putting real, incredibly intentional effort into their songwriting, production, and arrangements to help elevate the joke, just like we are. That really does make me believe the perception is already changing.

Greenville, South Carolina rocker Mason Thomas steps forward with “Therapy,” the first single from his forthcoming debut album, My Shell Is Gone, arriving September 18. After years spent playing bass with Nordista Freeze, Sarah Shook and The Disarmers, Pretty Embers, and Liam Bauman, Thomas is putting his own songwriting at the center. Rooted in alternative and indie rock, “Therapy” turns an uncomfortable realization into something instantly relatable. Framed as a back-and-forth between therapist and client, the track explores a “people pleaser’s nightmare”: wanting the benefits of healing while presenting the most put-together version of yourself instead of confronting what is actually wrong. The idea comes from Thomas’ own counseling experience after losing his mother to cancer in 2019. That loss sits at the heart of My Shell Is Gone. After returning from the hospital following his mother’s death, Thomas picked up his guitar and returned to a “comfort” riff he had carried for roughly a year. That moment became the album’s title track and eventually the starting point for a much larger body of work. Across nine songs, My Shell Is Gone documents the six years that followed, including Thomas’ turbulent entrance into adulthood and the arrival of the pandemic only months after his mother’s passing. Grief and anxiety run through the record, but they are balanced by heartbreak, love, self-realization, and the gradual process of understanding who he was becoming. Thomas describes the songs as a source of solace during years when he struggled to make sense of himself. Recorded with longtime collaborator Blake Tallent and drummer Jack Foster, the album turns that personal history into Thomas’ proper introduction as a solo artist. With “Worker’s Comp” arriving August 28 ahead of the September 18 album release, “Therapy” sets the tone for a debut built around finally confronting the things Thomas once kept hidden. “Therapy” explores the instinct to present the “best” version of yourself in counseling. When did you realize that performing wellness can actually get in the way of healing? I’d have to say it took fumbling over myself (and my own story) in and outside of a couple of sessions to finally just release my pent-up honesty and frustration. My therapist at the time could relate to 1. Being a musician and 2. Losing a parent, so by the time they opened up themselves, I felt I had nowhere else to hide. Not to mention, what was the point of even being there if I wasn’t going to try and actually get better? Healing only happens when you take a brutally honest look at yourself and take the steps necessary to find your remedy. In my case, that was letting go of a certain image and instead embracing the reality of who I am. You’ve spoken about entering therapy after losing your mother. How did those early counseling sessions change the way you understood grief and yourself? The first challenge I encountered in those early sessions was coming to accept the fact that I am a very sensitive person. I mean, we’re talking about the kid who’d get so mad in competitive sports that he’d start crying… But of course, I tried my best to repress emotions and be strong. By starting to do the work in therapy, I gained a greater appreciation for that softness and became more connected to my true self. Those early sessions helped me understand the fact that grief is an ongoing process. I had experienced grief before my mom’s passing, but the particular weight of her loss really made grief feel like a looming, gargantuan monster. My therapist really helped me knock down grief to its true form, and I was then able to learn how to live in tandem with it, not the fear of it. My favorite line on the whole record comes from the second track, “Note On The Door:” “It feels like the grief never shakes off.” It encapsulates the doomy feeling that grief slaps its victims with, yet it also offers a window to the reality that it comes in waves. After years of feeling uncomfortable sharing your own songs, what finally gave you the confidence to step forward as Mason Thomas and release this music? I started to force myself up on stage. The first time I played my songs in front of anyone was at an open mic night in Savannah at Abe’s On Lincoln fall 2021. My girlfriend (now wife :) ) and I were visiting friends who lived there, and then they encouraged me to get up and sing a few! I really thought I botched it, but both my people and strangers said I did awesome, so I kept on going. I did a few solo sets in Nashville in 2022 and 2023, and then in January 2024 I did my first full band shows with a trio. I also began learning how to finish songs. For the longest time, I’d have a riff and play it for two years straight until I’d eventually stumble into a vocal melody and a basic structure. I wrote the song “My Shell Is Gone” in 2019 after seeing my mom for the last time, and took a “comfort riff” I had and made the song in 20 minutes without any critique or overthinking. That instance really broke a lot of the fake walls I had built up around myself as an artist. While I still do plenty of overthinking, as I write more and more, I lean further into that pure feeling rather than what I THINK I should be making. My obsession with artists such as David Bowie and Robert Smith over the last four or five years has certainly shifted my process for the better. “Therapy” introduces listeners to My Shell Is Gone. Why did this song feel like the right first chapter for the album? While I wrote a few of the songs on the album before “Therapy,” I feel that when it was fully written, I had an actual album on my hands. I spent a lot of time listening to the record to figure out what the singles should be. Ultimately, “Therapy” has a hookiness and punch to it that best represents what listeners will hear throughout the rest of the album. Opening the album in a therapist office also enlists a mood for the songs to come. The album traces grief, anxiety, heartbreak, love, and your entrance into adulthood. Looking back at the person who started writing these songs, what has changed most about you since then? I am way more confident in who I am than I was in 2019, 2020, or even in 2023. While I liked to be outgoing with others, I always held a bit of timidness and self-hate around everywhere I went. There was always an inkling of hope that I could be fully seen. Come to find out, my friends really care about me and who I am – I’m finally able to see my own self-worth, which is something I’m not sure I would have said even like 10 months ago. My community in my current home, Greenville, and the ones prior - Nashville and Birmingham - are my lifeblood and are absolutely the reason I can look back and see any sort of personal growth.

Latina Bohemian’s latest single “BLACK LEATHER” is an emotionally charged EDM release that dives deep into themes of inner conflict, longing, faith, and personal healing. Rather than creating a typical dance track focused purely on escapism, Bohemian uses electronic production as a backdrop for emotional reflection, encouraging listeners to confront uncomfortable feelings instead of suppressing them. Another independent release, “BLACK LEATHER” showcases clear artistic growth. Following her debut musical poem “HEALING POETRY,” Bohemian steps further into experimental territory by blending atmospheric dance production with poetic storytelling and spiritual undertones. The song explores the emotional storms people silently battle while trying to navigate trust, pain, and self-discovery. Known for her intellectual and abstract creative style, Latina Bohemian draws influence from pop, R&B/soul, abstract art, and humanity itself. That fusion gives “BLACK LEATHER” a unique identity that feels both cinematic and deeply personal. Her willingness to combine genres and ideas freely allows the record to stand apart from more formulaic electronic releases. “It’s okay to process uncomfortable feelings; there’s inspiration in grievance,” says Bohemian — a statement that perfectly captures the emotional core of the release. “BLACK LEATHER” is not just a dance track; it’s a reminder that healing often begins by facing what hurts.